


Hard Wiring the Beginning

by Kitty_KatAllie



Series: Do You Believe in Fairies? [10]
Category: Harvest Moon: Animal Parade
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Gen, that f/f is very very slight so i feel like that tag is cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 00:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18325169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: Ninth Timestamp: Phoebe's EventTakes place during Chapters 34 "Harkening to the Heartfelt" & 35 "Intermission of Intentions"“Of course I won't throw pots at her. You, however, you'd make a great target,” said an irritated voice with a strange lilt to it. Luke shrieked and spun to the side, where the silver-haired and slender Witch-Princess stood with her fists on her hips and orange-hued eyes narrowed.





	Hard Wiring the Beginning

Hard Wiring the Beginning

 

It had been a few days since Evelyn had first broached the subject, in her awkwardly dramatic way, but Phoebe had not forgotten about the favor she'd promised. To the _Witch-Princess_ of all people. Through Evelyn, sure, but still. Phoebe shoved a few more necessary tools in her pack, wondering just what she was going to be in for. 

She stepped into the bright summer's morning light and smiled slightly. She had always preferred the crisp, cool air of autumn, but after several days of rain, and only a short lull between them, the sun was a welcome change. Chloe ran past, cackling madly and spinning like a top every few steps, and soon after her came Bo somehow managing to look worried while chuckling.

Phoebe waved in response to their hellos. She knew better than to stop, since Chloe could talk a person's ear off if given half a chance. She had a very long walk ahead of her, and Luke was already gone rather than standing outside and idly swinging around his axe as he tended to do in the morning quiet. He must have already gone down to Clarinet, or onward to Fugue.

Phoebe quickened her pace. She wasn't used to overstretching her leg muscles like this; her arms and shoulders were much more used to working. It was kinda nice to have a long, brisk walk ahead of her, though. When she passed by Clarinet, she just barely caught Evelyn ducking into the barn with... _Gill_? But Luke was nowhere in sight (or hearing). After pausing to stare at the barn door in utter confusion (when had Gill returned? When had Evelyn and he become friends? Why was he willingly walking into a _barn_?), Phoebe continued on to Fugue Forest.

By the time she made it to Horn Ranch, she caught sight of a tall, lanky figure coming down the hill from Horn Ranch. The sun glinting on the blade of the axe gave him away, and Phoebe raised a hand to catch his attention. It took a longer moment than Phoebe expected, but he was waving wildly back at her and loping down the hill to greet her a second later.

“Morning, Luke,” Phoebe greeted while out of arm's reach. “Did you sneak a second breakfast out of Hanna?”

Luke laughed as he halted in front of her. “Nah, didn' even make it to the front door. I was just walking Candy part'a the way, is all. Are _you_ here for second breakfast?”

“Only one breakfast is fine by me. I'm heading into Fugue and I was hoping you'd help me,” Phoebe explained succinctly. “I've been trying to catch you all morning and just missing you.” She frowned slightly in confusion. “Why Candace was out here?”

“Wool for the shop, I think. She wanted the walk 'n I ran into her,” Luke said with a shrug and a strange blush on his face. _What was it about this year and all this romance?_ Phoebe thought to herself, partly amused but mostly _bemused_. “Why'd you need my help through the Forest? You plannin' t'go deep enough to need an axe?” Luke asked quickly.

“You could say that,” Phoebe said dryly. “I'm heading in to meet the Witch-Princess.”

Luke actually blanched. “What?”

“Evie asked me for a favor for her, and well, the weather's fine enough for it. It's time to get started,” Phoebe said easily. Luke grimaced.

“You sure you wanna do that without her? That Witchlady don't know ya yet. You don't wanna get hit with pots, do ya?” he asked, eyes twinkling with his particular brand of mirth and mischief even though he was still lightly frowning.

Phoebe shook her head and chuckled. “I'm sure she's expecting me and I've been making her wait long enough. Elli said we have a whole week at least of sunshine ahead. I want to get this project started while that holds true.”

“Eh, it's your funeral... or, well, bruises, anyway. I dunno if she can kill ya with a pot?” he said questioningly with a deeper frown. He interrupted himself with a laugh. “I'm sure you'll handle yourself. Let's get going, then. It's a ways in, don' fall behind!”

“I won't,” Phoebe said agreeably.

The “walk” through the Forest wasn't much different from getting through the Upper Mine. She even had to help Luke crush a few boulders to get through some trickier paths. Between the two of them, both veterans of this sort of thing, they managed to make it to the center of the Forest in record time. Luke froze as soon as they stepped into the humid sunshine and peat squished under their boots.

“I don't think she'd want me t'come in,” he whispered under his breath. Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him, but he was too busy looking around the little clearing with suspicion.

“How about you head back into the Forest then? I'll be fine from here,” she suggested diplomatically. He looked almost affronted at the idea.

“I can't just... _leave_ you _alone_ with her! I'll come with ya, and if she doesn't throw pots at ya, then I'll go,” he said decisively, standing at his full height and steeling his jaw. 

“Of course I won't throw pots at _her_. _You,_ however, you'd make a great target,” said an irritated voice with a strange lilt to it. Luke shrieked and spun to the side, where the silver-haired and slender Witch-Princess stood with her fists on her hips and orange-hued eyes narrowed. “I remember you, too. Aren't you _ever_ quiet?”

“Uuhhhh,” Luke blurted, one hand up in surrender and the other clinging to his axe like a security blanket (instead of the weapon it obviously could be). 

“He's going now. I'm here to help you, though,” Phoebe interrupted as she smoothly stepped between them and held out her hand. She jerked back her hand to tear off her work glove and then held it out again. “Phoebe Kettles. Evie said you needed some wiring done?”

The Witch-Princess turned those eyes on Phoebe, gaze intense and laser-bright. She looked down at Phoebe's hand, but crossed her arms tightly and turned away with a sniff. “I don't  _want_ any wiring done, but I  _suppose_ I need it. For now.”

There was a strange moment of vulnerability that flickered across the Witch's face. Then, that haughty look returned and she imperiously waved Phoebe forward. 

“Come along then.”

She didn't even spare Luke a glance as she walked away, clearly expecting Phoebe to follow her. No wonder she was called a Princess, she definitely acted as entitled as one, Phoebe thought to herself in some wry amusement. 

“I'll probably run into you later,” she told Luke gently. He startled in place and chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of his head. “If not, don't worry about it. I'll be fine.”

“Okay, if you say so. Holler if you need me, though, a'ight?” Luke said a little anxiously. 

Which was sweet, but unnecessary. Evelyn wouldn't have asked for help for someone dangerous, and Renee was already becoming friends with her (at least, that's what she extrapolated from Evelyn's ramblings). Phoebe waved him off and walked over the bridge towards the giant tree-stump-house and the impatiently waiting woman just outside it. Once Phoebe reached the stoop, the Witch glanced towards the trees, rolled her eyes at whatever Luke was doing, and then led Phoebe inside. 

“So, Fiona. This is it,” the Witch said, gesturing like some bored royal over the interior of her home. 

"It's _Phoebe."_

Though quite small and cluttered, it was comfortable and filled with beautiful things the owner obviously treasured. The furniture gleamed mirror-bright, the mirror itself looked made of liquid silver rather than mere glass. Pillows were fluffed and set perfectly wherever pillows could be placed and every surface that could be stuffed was poofy with whatever their innards were, probably swan-down or spun silk. Red roses bloomed riotously from a copper urn on the table and big, blue morning glories crowned the molding along the ceiling as if growing straight out of the wood. Phoebe eyed the roses curiously, sure that they shouldn't be there. Weren't Castanet roses autumn blooms?

“I'm not... exactly sure where you could put the wires? Do you have to put them _in_ the walls? If my... When my magic regains its true strength, it'll all need to be taken away,” the Witch said with her hands cupping her elbows as she scowled in the direction somewhere around Phoebe's ear. 

“I'm afraid leaving them _outside_ the walls could be dangerous,” Phoebe answered seriously. She had noticed the Witch's slip, and professionally followed her would-be client's lead. “When your magic improves, can't you... magic it _away_?”

That disdainful eye roll was aimed at Phoebe this time. “Of course I could,” she replied in a saccharine tone that immediately set Phoebe's teeth on edge, “if I want to set my home on fire or blast it into a tornado or some other such disaster. Magic and...  _technology_ just don't mix well. It'll take days, or weeks, to sort it back out again.”

“All right, I'll keep my suggestions about your magic to myself then,” Phoebe said placidly, holding up her hands. 

The Witch's lips _—_ a shade of glossy pink that was unnatural but just as beautiful as those out of season roses _—_ pursed tightly. She looked as if she were trying very hard not to tell Phoebe  _exactly_ where to shove those suggestions. The idea would've probably annoyed someone like Evelyn or Kathy, but it just made Phoebe suppress a smirk. She made a gesture as if to move around the Witch, and she quickly spun on her heel and stomped off to what Phoebe assumed was the kitchen. The oven she caught a glimpse of looked older than Methuselah, but it was definitely an oven. 

Phoebe took out her measuring tape and notebook, stuck a pencil behind her ear, and then started to get to work. She was technically licensed as an electrician, but she hadn't done a job since she left the city. It had been a good living and got her expenses paid for that the scholarship didn't cover, but she'd wanted to focus on  _mechanics_ . She wanted to _create_ new, useful things. Yet here she was, noting down the dimensions of a witch's house to get it wired. 

Because her magic was on the fritz and she couldn't actually handle a century-old stove without it. 

Phoebe sighed softly and finished jotting down another measurement, already adding in her head what she'd need to go to Mineral Town for, and what she could get from the Carpenters or the General Store. There was a rattle of cutlery and plates and a loud THUD and alarming clatter. On reflex, Phoebe's notebook snapped shut over her thumb as she turned, eyebrows flying up. 

The Witch-Princess stood by the table, arms crossed and scowl on again. Next to her was a tray filled with glasses of bright red juice and fresh vegetables cut up and arranged neatly. At Phoebe's baffled look, the Witch-Princess scowled more fiercely. 

“It's what a hostess should do!” she snapped. She stomped away, then stomped back with a jug of what was presumably more juice. “I thought this might take a long time,” she added, a little less caustically. 

Phoebe cleared her throat and tried not to offend her touchy hostess any further. “Actually, I'm just about done. I can't do anything without materials. Today was just to see how much I would need. I was going to mark where I would put in some outlets, and I need to see your kitchen.”

Again, something complicated and vulnerable peeked through the Witch-Princess's expression, there and gone again. 

“So you'll be returning?” she asked blandly. 

“Probably several times.”

The Witch-Princess hummed softly in response. Then, she looked up and raised a single, perfect eyebrow. “Well? Are you as rude as that floundering idiot outside? Or are you going to sit and have a refreshment?” she demanded. She used a hand to motion towards the table and Phoebe caught the sight of band-aids covered in prancing sheep. 

_Renee's_ , she realized with an inward smile. She shrugged and sat down where the Witch-Princess gestured. She noticed with eyebrows rising that everything on the tray was raw. Clean and painstakingly cut (emphasis on pain with the band-aids on those elegant fingers and palms), but nothing was cooked or boiled. Coins of carrots and cucumbers, slices of fresh ruby-red tomatoes, glistening melons and wild berries heaped high and dusted with sugar, even the drinks were fresh juice, barely chilled. 

“It looks really refreshing,” Phoebe said sincerely. For a moment, the Witch-Princess preened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking pleased. 

“Renee brought me a basket from Marimba a few days ago. Perhaps I'll go myself tomorrow while you hammer away. You... You will be here _tomorrow_ , right?” she asked as she sat and delicately picked up a sugar-covered blackberry. 

“Yeah, I can get started on a few things right away,” Phoebe agreed. The Witch-Princess popped the berry in her mouth, and then smiled at her, bright and shining and _gorgeous._ Abruptly, Phoebe felt her feet knocked out from under her, breath caught somewhere behind her sternum, at that guilelessly sweet expression. She was very, very glad she was already sitting, because no one had warned just what those orange eyes could do paired with a smile like that. 

She reached for her juice and hoped the glass hid the sudden flush rising up her throat. The Witch-Princess was obliviously munching away on the berries, sugar granules clinging to her shiny mouth and eyes half-mast with pleasure. Her sweet tooth was obvious and unabashed, and more than half the berries were already gone. 

“I guess you aren't so bad. You're not so chatty, and you don't gaze at me like I'm the Harvest Goddess herself rather than just _me_ ,” the Witch-Princess said decisively. “If it had to be anyone, I guess you're bearable.”

Phoebe didn't know if she wanted to be annoyed or touched by that assessment. She kept it neutral and hid her feelings with a crunch of cucumber. 

“What is 'just you', though? You can't be much different than the Goddess?” Phoebe blurted once she'd swallowed her mouthful. She never could quite contain her curiosity.   


The Witch-Princess covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed uproariously. “No! Not a bit! I suppose I got a bit of fairy blood in me, from generations ago, but I'm  _not_ a fairy. I'm a witch, simple as that. I live a little longer than humans, and I've got some extra... gifts, but I don't control the land, the sea, the very air we breathe. If I get sick, the land doesn't sicken with me, and if I leave, the land won't die. It prospers and fails with or without me. The Harvest Goddess  _is_ this place. They're connected beyond your mortal ken, beyond mine, although thanks to certain circumstances, I have a bit more understanding than you,” the Witch-Princess explained with a bit of false modesty tacked on at the end. 

Phoebe crunched on a carrot thoughtfully. “So, you're like a fancy human, but still a human.”

This time, the witch actually giggled. “It's a little more complicated than  _that_ .”

“Why princess though? I don't think Castanet has ever had a royal family... Did you come from somewhere else?” Phoebe asked curiously. 

Whatever amusement the Witch-Princess had abruptly ended. Her nose scrunched distastefully. “No. I've lived here my whole life.”

That seemingly ended  _that_ conversation. After quickly finishing her juice, Phoebe got to her feet and politely excused herself. Reverie broken, the Witch-Princess startled and looked up, blinking owlishly. 

“I still have that kitchen to measure,” Phoebe said. 

“Oh, right. Of course, carry on.” She settled back into her chair and slipped a piece of melon between her lips while absently staring out the window. 

She finished measuring and said her farewells to the Witch-Princess before her usual lunch time was finished. Even though the little clearing was filled with heavy, bright sunshine, the lone, silvery-black figure of the Witch looked small and lost when she glanced back over her shoulder. A small brown weasel and fat, lumbering tanuki made their way to the Witch-Princess's feet just as Phoebe stepped into the cool shade of the Forest. 

The way home was uneventful and  _long_ for some reason. She'd heard the thudding of trees being felled, but carefully avoided running into Luke and any small talk. She was definitely  _not_ thinking about sheep band-aids and glossy pink lips for rest of the day and well into the evening. That way lay madness. She had a job to get done, a favor for a friend. 

Besides, she was done falling for the wrong women. And if one thing was certain, the Witch-Princess of Fugue Forest was the wrong woman for Phoebe Kettles, a mechanical engineer-slash-inventor and daughter of shopkeepers. 

She couldn't help but smirk at the bowl full of blackberries she found in the fridge that night, though. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly am not sure how this couple will work out or if they will, but I liked the idea of them. So, I'mm put them together and see how they work. There's another pairing or two I might play with as well, so we'll see. It's DEFINITELY not an endgame pairing yet, lemme tell ya! So far though... yeah... I think there might be something there... ;p
> 
> I managed to get this done and posted within a day! WHOOP!


End file.
